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7 yrs ago
Alright status update: I have started a new job and am currently in the process of getting used to said job. To all the games I'm currently in I will starting work on responses this weekend
8 yrs ago
Due to a misplacement of my laptop I will unlikely be able to post until Friday or there abouts. My apologies for those waiting on me.


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Location: Few miles off the coast of the Reach - 41 AC
Chapter 1: Face to Face @Archangel89 @Ruby

The hunt in Harlaw had been successful to a point, a band of Faithful had escaped on a longship under the cover of confusion. The Harlaw boy had put up more of a fight than previously thought and in the ensuing fight were gone before they knew it. They had taken advantage of the couple of hours lead and prolonged the hunt. The fools would be heading towards some sort of sanctuary, some port to stow away in. There were only two that came to mind and neither would bode well for Rowan if they chose them. In the distance he saw their sails unfurled, catching the full breath of the wind.

”They’ve caught the wind, they’ll be pulling into Lannisport soon. If they dock there then there is nothing we can do. The Lannister’s will kill us as soon as let us leave.”

”There’s another port they could get to, it would depend on them thinking that they can out run us…”

Rowan’s face turned into a mischievous grin, his gaze never leaving his prey,

”...they’re going to Oldtown. They’re going to hope to outrun us and get down to the Reach and make a run for it. Bring the sails to half mast and give them some space, let them run, let them think that the Seven have saved them. Before we show them the true might of the sea.”

The sails raised and the Faithful took a slow lead as they started to edge further and further out. The other sailors looked on in a sort of confusion as Rowan stood there and watched them go further and further out. It had long been speculated that while it was ordered by the Lord Reaper to drive out the Faith of the Seven from the Isles, Rowan had seemed to take it overboard by tracking them down like this was excessive; though they dare not say anything to him, especially after what happened to the Harlaw kid.

Location: The Mouth of the Mander - The Reach - 41 AC
Chapter 1: Face to Face @Archangel89 @Ruby

The chase had gone on long enough, and an impatient captain began pressing the attack. It was true that the Faithful had chosen to forgo Lannisport and tried to make it to Oldtown like Rowan had said but his impatience pushed them towards the Shield Islands but they breached themselves at the Mouth of the Mander and took off. The forest was green thick, life teemed in every nook and cranny and it sickened Rowan. The weak had inherited such fertile ground and had to earn none of it, the greenlanders had to do nothing more than go outside and take from the earth. The tracks were sloppy and easily readable; they were heading towards the nearest village. He was going to bring them back.
“Signal fires, from the Shield Islands.”
The messenger was breathless, a soak of sweat and near panic as he crashed into her pavilion in their camp outside the walls of Oldtown, where she’d been removed to following the incident. There was little time, as badly as she felt, purple and black as her shoulder was, there was just no time for discussion. “Mount who we can. I’ll dress quickly.” Not even Ren argued. He’d stay behind, but from the camp and Garin’s men they assumed possibly thirty. By the time she was on her horse and meeting them on the other side of Oldtown, the number was thirty-two. Half were Garin’s men, half was her knights.
Ryam cursed mentally as the messenger simply had the worst timing possible. He knew exactly what Vittoria was going to do and he felt his duty to defend her rise up… But no, he didn't say a word. He simply left the tent while she dressed and secured his, and Vittoria's horse.
It wasn’t much, but they could easily be joined by men from the Shield Islands themselves, let alone the nearby villages and towns. She herself had gotten quickly into plate, the simple silver, with a thick wool cloak dyed emerald with the golden rose of Highgarden upon it, trimmed in gold.
They found other messengers along the way; Ironborn, for sure, possibly three longships near the mouth of the Mander. Another messenger had reported longships of the Reach dispatched from stations along the Mander, itself, heading down towards the mouth of the river. Messengers from Brightwater Keep found them last: the truth of it was a small force from the Shield Islands had chased the Ironborn who landed, though they had quickly lost the Ironborn after a quick skirmish.
Men from Brightwater Keep had found a band of fleeing men and women of the Faith, and there the story was finally learned: one, maybe two, longships of Ironborn chasing the members of the Faith. Vittoria had a sick feeling when she heard the news. There was little choice but to go as fast as they could, they had gotten a fresh horse for the Brightwater Keep messenger, and he rode point to guide them.
They were found by Garin’s men, between the mouth of the Mander and Highgarden. They crossed at the ferry near Orchardtown, a village, not a town, but the merchants of the village had always been a braggadocious, ambitious sort. By the time they found them, the men from the Shield Islands were gone. Dead, or lost, and only a handful of Brightwater Keep scouts in mail were found with the members of the Faith.
The moment they saw her ride up, they began to sob. She hoped in joy,

“They come quickly!”
Vittoria’s Myrish looking glass confirmed their story. Those were, indeed, Ironborn making a sprint through the rolling fields of golden roses, hot in pursuit. Garin’s men were split in half, one to the right flank, one to the left. The scouts of Brightwater had found a small grove of old oaks atop the tallest hill in the area. Two were left with the Faithful and told to lead them to Highgarden, the other three went with her, inflating the number of mounted men directly with her at nineteen.
“Should we charge?”
Vittoria saw no reason. Garin’s men were on their side of the ridge, not close but not too far for a shout to reach them. Two of her own knights had brought longbows, whereas Vittoria herself couldn’t move her left arm nearly at all without a good deal of pain. The milk of the poppy the Maesters had given her had all but worn away by now, leaving her with a splitting head and an aching body.
“No. We’ll wait for them here.”
The sun was red and sinking fast in the late afternoon by the time the Ironborn got close enough. The spyglass alerted her to a certain presence, one she openly cursed, hotly, without naming a name. The Knights around her stared, never before having heard their Lord Commander’s temper rise so hot, so fast. When they were close enough for the two longbow wielding Knights to reach, standing in front of the horses, Vittoria had them all move forward to the edge of the ridge, so those approaching the steep hill with the grove of old oaks could see the figures on the ridgeline.
She screamed so loudly she shook, her shoulder throbbing hot, her left hand going near enough to numb, her head swimming,
“Let’s go,”
,was all she said, as her ears rang. Two of her own mounted knights carried tall, broad shields, flanking her closely as they went down the hill that was just kind enough to their horses. Near the foot of the hill they stopped, awaiting the Ironborn leader to approach.
She looked to either side of the ridge, and saw Garin’s men, both flanks, appear as they got closer, bows drawn. If he tried anything stupid towards her, he and his would be dead, and fast. It was either talk, die, or try to run. Honestly, Vittoria had no idea what the man would do.

That voice, that commanding presence that radiated from behind him, there was only one person in the seven kingdoms that could have that kind of presence. He knew that the Reach was her territory he wasn’t sure that she would even be in the area. Mirth quickly spread across his face as he turned to see the Ardent Maiden herself, Vittoria Tyrell. Rowan hadn’t seen her since their campaign against the so called pirate king but to see her here in force was something truly masterful to behold. Rowan turned and to his party with two of the faithful held hostage, his joy unable to be contained,

”Stay here and keep a blade to their necks, we wouldn’t want them to get to…anxious.”

As he turned back to his swarm of advisories and pointed his drawn axe to the object of his glee,


Rowan stolled towards the collected armored knights, in the back of his mind he knew that this was a bad idea. He was strategically at a massive disadvantage. The divided mounted soldiers on either side of the ridge were staring with intent, simply waiting for their commanders orders. The knights behind her were also well equipped, Rowan could make out several longbows with arrows notched and ready to be fired. In any sane commander's mind this should be as simple as letting the prisoners go, getting in the longships and walking away to see another day. Rowan, however, was always known to push the boundaries of greenland behavior,

”Good evening Vitt, still traveling with those armored scarecrows is see, are their sticks still firmly planted or have you gotten them to loosen up?”
Lady Vittoria of House Tyrell, High Marshall of the Reach, looked anything but pleased,
“Lord Rowan the Reaver, so good to finally see you again, instead of just trading letters. Speaking of letters, did I mention to you I spent some time in the Citadel going over copies of the letters sent from the King to the Lords of Greyjoy? Did you know the King rather explicitly states in those letters that members of the Faith may be DEPORTED from the Iron Islands, but NOT killed?”
There was a rise in her voice towards the end of her words, with emphasis on ‘deported’ and ‘not’, without ever approaching the anger of her earlier shout of his name,
“We have most of the members of the Faith running from you. Where are the rest, Rowan? Give us the rest and your crew may live to see another day.”
Despite her straight posture in the saddle of her palfrey, someone who had spent time with her before would hear it—pain hiding under her tone. The sound was familiar to Rowan, the sound of stifled pain while attempting to be strong in front of a command. As he looked up under his eyebrows, staring with an almost hungry and malicious intent, Rowan grinned with an arrogance that he should not have in the situation that he finds himself in,

”Careful Vitt, your humanity is showing, wouldn’t want any of these fine soldiers knowing the great Ardent Maiden is anything less than impervious,”

With outstretched arms his voice rose to a roar, almost loud enough for all in attendance to hear,


By instinct the other reavers behind him chanted in unison, the sound of their cries could be heard at least as far as those in immediate attendance as Rowan could see the nerves of Vittoria’s shieldmen waver just a little,

”How about it Vitt? What say you give this merry band of a******s the slip and be my stonewife? We could conquer the coasts taking all that we please and pay the iron cost for all of it?”

Her jaw clinched, and with her one good hand, she pointed at him,

“You are insufferably mad sometimes!”

She didn’t yell, but the heat from her was enough to lift her in her stirrups until the haze of her head and the weight of her armor immediately pulled her back down, again. To its credit, her palfrey simply snorted.

Vittoria Tyrell didn’t let her mind even entertain his proposal. She was enough of a bookish girl to know what a stone wife was. Deep down, she was flattered. Deeper down, far away from this moment, when she was very much alone, she might even think about the idea in some twisted thought.

But now? She wanted those members of the Faith alive. It took her long, long moments to calm herself, and wait until her heart slowed in her chest,

Gods, it hurts. All of it. Everywhere.

She sighed. Then, after a moment, she sighed again, deeper. Her eyes looking past him,

“Your people will never make it a hundred yards, Rowan. You’ve doomed them to death.”

He irritated her. He was at every war council. He was everywhere she turned. He was also, by far, the best man at sea she had ever seen. He was as a spirit of vengeance with an axe in his hand. He scared grown, veteran, men just with a shout and a charge. He was mad. His madness intimidated,

But not her. There were times she suspected that’s why he pushed her so hard. She sighed, for a third time, and just…looked at him,

“Rowan, give them to me. You will live. I will make you my prisoner. Don’t make me kill you.”

She said, as tiny beads of sweat started down her brow, as her head began to flutter, as her arm began to burn in a heat she had not felt before.

”You know that I can’t do that Vitt, as serious as you are about the Seven, I am about the Drowned God, these are not just ’faithful’, these are Ironborn from the Iron Islands. I have to send them to his temple for his judgment.”

Vittoria looked to one of the knights next to her, the one on the right; her sworn shield, Ser Ryam. Her brown eyes just started, but for a moment, before they slid away from her cousin and returned to the horizon,

“I suppose so, you’re right. NOW!”

It was yelled, loud enough to make her visibly wince in pain and draw her left arm ever closer to her body. Before she was even done with the short word both flanks were kicking up dust. Steeds between one thousand and two thousand stones picking up steam, drawing and readying arms,

"Move, my Lord, and they will gut you like a fish and sew the ground you stand on with your entrails. See how your damned God likes that,”

,she said, never even directly looking at Rowan. She had wanted all of the members of the Faith alive, but her patience was gone, exhausted by him. The mounted archers would make the first contact. If they tried to use the two members of the Faith they still had as a hostage or shield, they would be pinned with arrows by the missile cavalry, or ran through with sword or lance by the light cavalry.

“Bind him, we take him with us as prisoner. Have the Brightwater scouts locate the longships. I want them found and dragged onto shore and burned. I’ll be speaking to the others.”

She sounded as casual as a comment upon the weather as she turned her palfrey and headed off to speak to the members of the Faith they had rescued. The sound of approaching calvary was dim in Rowan’s ear as he watched Vittoria turn his back on him. In that moment everything fell away; his crusade, the faithful none of it but only the words burned rang in his ear.


Rage flashed in his eyes and foam gathered in the corner of his mouth as in defiance he roared in command. Until this point Rowan had been calm, he had been respectful in his own way, but the mere thought of burning his ships sent him into a whirlwind of anger that if he had not had some grasp of himself he would have made the wrong move and killed his entire crew,


The Ironborn quickly turned from their prey and darted away running in haste back to the shoreline, as the mounted knights began to pursuit Rowan once again roared in command,


Rowan moved with righteous fury up to Vittoria’s palfry wrists in front of him in a bound position,

”Your move Lady Tyrell.”

Location: Off the coast of the Iron Islands - 41 AC
Prologue: The Ironborn Inquisition

The salt and spray of the unforgiving waters of Ironman’s Bay were refreshing to feel against the face of the ironborn commander. Rowan Greyjoy, commander of the Iron Inquisition, stood at the bow of his ship and watched his destination come closer into view. He and his detachment of two longships had been sailing around the Iron Islands for months now taking on his fathers mission to bring the Drowned God back as the only god worshiped among the ironborn and their thralls. The sharp wind seemed to whip and whirl around him as his hair which he had thankfully tied back for just such an occasion.

The heavy sounds of boots along the deck of the ship made him aware of his second in command approaching him. The tall reaver, longsword at the hip, stood in an almost casual half-cocked stance, looking out over the same direction as his captain.

”Weather’s holdn’ out, were gonna be there before midday. So how many do ya’ think this place is gonna have?”

”Ahh, it’ll be enough. We could circle the islands three times over and they’d still find a rock to hide under. Like the insects that they are.”

The awkward pause in conversation let the captain know that what he said had struck a chord,

”Does that bother you Harlaw? Does the idea that these traitors to the Drowned God are like insects?

”No sir, it’s just that…these people are still Iron Islanders aren’t they? It seems strange that we would be wantonly cutting down our own people?”

At the sound of his rebuttal Rowan turned and faced the young reaver. A fairly good looking who looked more green than he should be at his age, the boy was knowledgeable around a ship and could hold his own in a fight but his ideals and thoughts are ones that shouldn’t be uttered on a Greyjoy longship. A look of mock surprise spread across Rowan’s face as he sarcastically expressed disbelief,

”Well I’ll be, now that is a fancy word from a fancy lord. I’ll tell you Harlaw I’m glad I brought you along so that you can show us simple Pyke boys the power of words, let's give Harlaw here a round of applause.”

The sailors on the deck of the ship all gave an uproar in sarcasm as the Harlaw man began to shift and look around in irritation. The obvious look of embarrassment couldn’t be hidden as he looked around as his crew pointed and laughed at him as the preparations for landing was made,

”Ya’ see Harlaw, these people have chosen the faith of the greenlanders. They chose to abandon not only the Iron Islands but the Drowned God himself. We are born and shaped by the sea, the Drowned God has blessed us with the strength to take what is rightfully ours. This ’Faith of the Seven’ filth is nothing but a way to make hard men soft and soft men deserve nothing. Weak men deserve only to be thalls on our islands to draw from the land while the strong go out and take what is deserved. Gather your gear men…our quarry awaits.

The island came within a stones throw and the men moved and scrambled into action. A wave crashed against the bow as a blast of salt water covered the unmoving captain,

’I will send them all to the Drowned God…one way or another.’

Location: Iron Islands - Harlaw - 41 AC
Prologue: The Ironborn Inquisition

The hunt wasn’t as exciting as Rowan had thought as most of the fight came from the minor houses on the island while House Harlaw watched from a distance. The collection of septons and septas were lined up along the beach on their knees, blades at each of their throats as Rowan paced back and forth in front of them. All of them were fattened noble types who hadn’t spent as much as one day on the sea let alone pay the iron price for anything that they owned. This is exactly the weakness that his father sought to drive out. The Iron Islands pride themselves on their strength and their willingness to do what was necessary to take what was theirs.

”You all know me, if you don’t then your lords have done you a great disservice. My name is Rowan Greyjoy, first of his na….”

”We know who you are Iron Inquisitor, we know….


The sickening sound of axe splitting head sent a residual wave of blood across those that were in attendance Rowan, at its epicenter, stood still for a moment as large trails of blood ran their way down his face. This was a moment that needed to happen for those that remained, a true reminder of who it was that they were dealing with.

”’s rude to interrupt someone when they're speaking, as you now know.

Letting go of the handle and allowing the corpse to fall limp to the ground, Rowan cleaned his face the best that he could with the exposed sleeve of his shirt,

”Now…THAT was not part of the plan. I wanted to go about this the proper way, letting you get to know me and explain how this was going to go, but THIS bastard had to be rude and interrupt a speaking lord. Now you all have me in a bad mood, now I’m thinking that we simply carve off you arms and legs and let the crabs eat at you and never send you the Drowned God to make up for your weakness. IRONBORN…”

One of the septas cried out in fear which drew Rowan’s attention, tears streamed down her face as she threw herself towards Rowan screaming at the top of her lungs,


The somewhat stunned captain walked over towards the hysterical woman, each step crunching against the gravel of the beach in slow methodical movements. Reaching down to gently cusp her face to hold her gaze to his, she would have been a fairly decent woman save for the rivers of snot and tears,

”There now was that so hard. You get it now don’t you this life in these ’new gods’ makes us weak. We are ironborn. We have to be stronger than these greenlanders. They offer us these loving and weak gods thinking to placate us and make us like them; soft, weak, loving. We draw our strength from the unforgiving sea not from the light above. I am glad you get it.

A soft, comforting smile spread across his face as she calmed down to the point of silent sniffles. Any one from the outside would assume that Rowan was showing some sort of kindness, some sort of peace and good measure. This of course was a fallacy.

”Now, go and meet the Drowned God in his court. Ask for his mercy there.

The hopeful look on the womans face slowly faded into horror as two reavers carried her away binding her hands and feet and drug her on to the ship,

”You will all meet the Drowned God this day, line them up at the water's edge. The tide is rising soon. They will meet him on this day. Oh and take Harlaw here as well,”

The shocked reaver attempted to rebuttal but was quickly cut off by his fellow reavers stripping him of his armor and weapons,

”, your weak mindset will not stand on my ship. Go and ask the Drowned God for the strength to harden your resolve.”

@Ezekiel thanks I appreciate that, I am going to add info to Rowan's backstory that ties him to the Tyrell's assault on the pirate king

Five Hours Till Midnight

The dark eyes of Mrs Cobalt did not leave Jayce’s face as she spoke, and the older woman smiled warmly at his words. For all the coldness of Mister Cobalt, and the air of unease that seemed to cling to Mister Black like a cloud, Jayce couldn’t shake the feeling that the woman in front of him was the closest thing to a friend he had made since he had set foot in Wilde Hall. Sure enough, it was her voice that spoke.

“You are too kind, Mister Silver. I confess, you intrigue me. I wonder if you would accompany an old woman for a little while? I have no doubt that these two would rather discuss business, and I am afraid I will find that dreadfully dull.”

Mrs Cobalts head gestured towards Mister Black and Cobalt, both men apparently taken aback by Mrs Cobalts invitation, although neither challenged it. The warm smile not faded, Mrs Cobalt extended her arm towards Jayce, the dark eyes still not leaving his face. The warm and inviting invitation caused a moment's hesitation in Jayce. As he prepared himself to arrive this evening he steeled himself into dealing with hardened business folk who were prone to keeping themselves and their secrets at a certain distance, but Mrs. Cobalt's warm nature was definitely something that he wasn't used to.

"Of course, Mrs. Cobalt. I would relish the opportunity for more time in your company."

Mrs Cobalt let Jayce take her arm, before leading him away from Mister Cobalt and Mister Black. The crowd of guests, which seemed to ebb and flow all around them like the tide, parted in front of the unlikely pair. Whether it was the warmth of Mrs Cobalt herself, or simply the distance that he had managed to put between himself and whatever it was that lurked behind the dark eyes of Mister Black, Jayce couldn’t help but feel a weight lifted from his shoulders.

“I’m afraid you must forgive my husband, Mister Silver. He can be a little… cold these days. But I assure you, he means no offense.”

"It's alright Mrs. Cobalt. I am all too familiar with the world of business and those that inhabit it. If it wouldn't be too forward of me, what seems to have Mr. Cobalt so perturbed?"

Mrs Cobalt watched Jayce’s face for a moment, before smiling again, and patting his arm.

“All in good time, Mister Silver. All in good time.”

The far wall of the room suddenly loomed before them, but Mrs Cobalt did not break stride, her hand reaching out, and pushing open a door that was almost invisible against the wood paneling. Where Jayce may be a stranger to Wilde Hall, Mrs Cobalt was clearly not.

The doorway swung open slightly, giving Jayce a glimpse of the room beyond. In fact, the room was more of a corridor than anything, barely more than a few paces long, the space lit by a single golden lamp above their heads, another wooden door at the other end.

Mrs Cobalt hesitated, turning back to Jayce as the pair of them stood on the threshold.

“Would you care to join me for some air, Mister Silver?”

Mrs. Cobalt's blase composure took Jayce by a bit of surprise. The only person that he expected to be so comfortable traversing around the Wildes' Manor were the Wildes and their staff. As he followed in suite his confident gait echoed among the cacophony of sounds in the party hall. '

"Of course Mrs. Cobalt. I must admit that as much as I enjoy a good party I believe that it needs to be balanced, as all things should be."

Mrs. Cobalt's face lit up in a broad smile at Jayce’s agreement, and she was quick to lead them forwards. As they moved into the corridor, the door behind them swung shut, and almost at once, the noise of the party was reduced to barely a whisper.

For a moment, Jayce was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was now alone with a woman that was little more than a stranger. Mrs. Cobalt was smaller than he was, and a good few years older, but she clearly had an intimate knowledge of their surroundings, which Jayce certainly did not, and they were not cut off from the other guests behind them. As if sensing Jayce’s concern, he felt Mrs. Cobalt squeeze his arm.

“We are birds of a feather then, you and I. I hope that…”

They had reached the end of the corridor, no more than a few paces in truth, and half-stepped through the door at the end when Mrs. Cobalt trailed off, the warm smile appearing to falter for a moment.

The chill of the air had been immediate, and Jayce saw that they had stepped out onto a modest porch, hemmed in by waist height walls of weathered stone, but otherwise open the night air. And they were not alone.

It was this fact, Jayce suspected, that seemed to have derailed Mrs Cobalt, although any derailment was only brief, the smile returning with almost visible force.

“Madam Blue. Forgive me, I did not realize… It is good to see you.”

As Jayce’s eyes adjusted to the half-lit porch, he took in the two figures before him. Both stood at around Mrs Cobalt's height, and both wore masks. The woman, although as he looked at her closer, she appeared to be little more than a girl, wore an elaborate, and no doubt expensive, dark blue dress, and dark eyes flitted between Mrs Cobalt and Jayce from behind a silver wrought mask. The boy, and this time, Jayce was sure that the figure was far from being a grown man, all lanky limbs and blemished cheeks, wore an ill-fitting suit, and a simple black mask, but the blue eyes burned with defiance all the same.

It was the young woman that spoke first, presumably the Madam Blue that Mrs. Cobalt had addressed. If Madam Blue was at all surprised by Mrs. Cobalt's arrival, or put out by her greeting, she certainly did not show it, returning the older woman’s smile with a pleasant one of her own. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft and almost sing-song.

“There is no need to apologize, Mrs. Cobalt.”

Jayce noticed that this Madam Blue had not returned Mrs. Cobalt's niceties, but it seemed to do nothing to dissuade Mrs. Cobalt as she took a step further onto the porch, her grip on Jayce’s arm half leading and half dragging him after her. The door behind them swung closed with a faint thud.

“I don’t believe I have met your companion, Madam Blue.”

“And I don’t believe I have met yours.”

Jayce was suddenly aware that a pair of dark eyes were watching him, expectantly.

"Hello, I'm Mr. Silver. I am Mrs. Cobalt's companion for the evening."

He extended a pleasant hand in greeting Madam Blue. Madam Blue looked down at Jayce’s offered hand with a mixture of curiosity and surprise, before taking it in on her own and shaking it.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Silver.”

Releasing Jayce’s hand, Madam Blue looked back towards Mrs Cobalt, her head tilting to one side slightly.

“So Mister Cobalt is…”

“Inside. Now, who is this gentleman?”

It was the turn for Mrs. Cobalt to grab hold of the conversation, and the focus once again swung onto the lanky figure that lurked at Madam Blue’s side. Madam Blue opened her mouth, as if she was going to introduce the boy, but she was beaten to it as the figure stepped forward, dipping into an awkward bow towards Mrs Cobalt.

“Mister Blue, ma’am.”

Mrs. Cobalt smiled warmly, and lowered herself into a curtsey in return.

“It is good to meet you, Mister Blue. May I say, you have an excellent choice of companion.”

The defiance in the boy's eyes was gone in an instant, his face falling.

“I’m not…”

Before Mister Blue could continue, Madam Blue was at his side again, linking her arm through his and smiling politely.

“He certainly does, Mrs. Cobalt. Thank you. Now, I am afraid we must be getting back inside.”

Mister Blue opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could, Madam Blue was already moving him towards the door. Before they could teach it, the young woman paused, and glanced back towards where Mrs. Cobalt and Jayce still stood, her dark eyes meeting Jayce’s.

“I hope to see you again, Mister Silver.”

With that, they were through the door, and gone from view. Once again, Jayce found himself alone with Mrs Cobalt. A glance towards the older woman would show that she was looking towards the door herself, seemingly lost in thought.

"Well, that was an interesting encounter. Are you alright Mrs. Cobalt? You seem much more distant now?"

Jayce walked back to his companions side and stared with interested intent. The Blues had rocked Mrs. Cobalt with something wicked which gave him the inclination that they knew each other. It would certainly be an interesting story if he could get it out of her. Mrs. Cobalt didn’t seem to hear Jayce at first, her gaze still fixed on the door, but as he stepped nearer to her, she shook out of the trance. The warm smile returned, and Mrs. Cobalt patted Jayce’s arm.

“You are a sweetheart, Mister Silver, but I assure you, I am quite alright. Now…”

“Dinner, at last! Shall we?”

One arm gestured towards the doorway back inside, while the other hand clasped Jayce’s arm.

"Absolutely I am famished. I hope Mr. Cobalt won't be too jealous that I've monopolized your time so much."


Im sorry boss lady for my part in the games decline. I had several weeks of hectic schedules and I just got some time to sit down and write. I was truly enjoying reliving such a great game and I hope that the motivation finds you again so I can pick back up with you and see this game go on again. I am so sorry for my part in this and I hope to see it again.
@Prisk hey boss lady I've really dropped the ball here. Completely fritz. I'm on vacation so I'll catch up and read and get a post up, I am so sorry I let this slip so bad.
@Prisk sorry for the lack of activity, life has also been hectic here as well. For continuity sake Aaron did pass out after he last struck the big bad don't least I've got that kinda going for me lol. I'm all seriousness though I'll catch up with this new wave of posts and try.and get something out realtivly soon.
CS updated and left in the CHAR tab. I will get some reading done and post ASAP
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